TTaT: Path of Thorns
by Timesprite
Summary: Domino continues her struggle against the events that haunt her while Cable tries to hold it all together.


Disclaimer: Cable and Dom aren't mine, they're Marvel's, I'm just borrowing them to make fiendishly complicated plots. No profit is being made from this tale. Exuberant thanks go out to Threnody and Deadeye, my friends and plot helpers. Thanks also go to Lynxie who looked this thing over several times in progress, and Threnody again for the beta. I'd be toast without you lot. 

This is part of the Time, Tide and Trauma series, though I'm ashamed to say I've forgotten how many stories that is now. The rest of the series can be found on my site, The Dayspring Archive, and Alternate Timelines. 

Path of Thorns   
by Timesprite 

They were only three miles from the house when she pulled the jeep over abruptly and cut the engine. 

"Tell me you want this." He stared at her for a moment, still trying to figure out what was going on. He was used to her occasionally erratic behavior by now, but... "Tell me you're not doing this," she waved to the belongings in the back of the vehicle, " just because I asked you to. Because if that's why, I don't want you to." She stared forward at the road, hands on the wheel. "And we can just end it here before we both get hurt again." 

"Are you asking me, or yourself?" It was a somewhat risky reply... there was a chance that it could blow up on his face here and now. But he had to trust her. Otherwise, there really was no point, was there? 

"I- I don't know, I guess," she paused, then glanced over at him. "I *think* I want this." 

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I do," he replied, looking her in the eye. "And we *can* do this." 

"Yeah," she replied after a moment. "I just thought- pre-emptive strike, I guess," she said wryly. 

---- 

"I came here... after." She commented, unlocking the door and throwing it open. 

"After," he nodded, knowing instinctively what she was referring to. 

She dropped the box on the battered kitchen table, then wiped dusty hands on her faded jeans. "Needed someplace you'd never been. Someplace clean. Hallways that had never heard the sound of your voice, a bed we'd never made love in. I just needed... space." 

"Did it work?" 

She laughed sardonically. "Hell no. Because pretty soon I realized I still heard you somehow. Not here... on the wind, maybe. And the ocean when it rained was just the color of your eyes. So, I left." She stood there with her hands stuffed in her back pockets, standing in the old unused kitchen with a look in her eyes he couldn't quite place. "What did you do?" 

"After?" 

"After." 

"Put my fist through the wall," he deadpanned. 

"Oh, Nathan," she laughed. "Tell me you didn't." 

"I did. Right through the drywall." He replied in the same solemn tone, letting a slight smile creep across his face. He'd never actually patched that hole. The masochist in him had decided to leave it be as a reminder. Patching the hole she'd left in him could never have been as easy as plastering over that wound in the drywall. The house wasn't even his anymore, he'd sold it not long before his showdown with Apocalypse, damaged wall and all. 

"You never came looking for me," she said, wandering into the living room. Sun slanted through blinds, leaving bright streaks on the floor and shafts of light in the air that danced with illuminated dust motes. "Why?" 

"Would you have taken me back if I had?" 

She turned around to face him, standing in the center of the empty room. "No." 

"I didn't really think so." 

"I hated you, Nathan. God forgive me, but I hated you. Almost as much as I hated myself. And it was wrong, I know that. But I hated you for doing that to me. For giving me a pain that was strangling me, that was so tight I couldn't breathe. And I hated you for being who you were, even if you couldn't help it. But I hated myself more, because I *let* you hurt me. I let myself love you. I let you get under my skin and God if I didn't like that feeling. Suddenly it was gone, and I was empty. And I realized this *house* was empty. It was a tomb I was burying myself in, so I left." 

"And here you are again." He walked to the center of the room, looping his arms around her waist. 

"Yeah." 

"And you picked this place. We could have gone anywhere." 

"Chasing away ghosts, Nate. If I leave this place empty, it'll haunt me forever, no matter how content I may be someplace else. But with you here, I can fill these empty walls up and there'll be nothing left to haunt me at all. I'll have you nicely under my skin, and I'll feel full and whole." 

---- 

"Be careful," Domino commented, looking up to where Cable's head and shoulders vanished into the attic. She somewhat doubted the rickety ladder's ability to hold his weight. 

"Nothing's going to attack me," came his muffled reply. 

"I sure hope not. I don't think I could say 'Nate got mauled by sentient dust bunnies' with a straight face." 

"Ha ha, very funny. There's all sorts of boxes up here, did you know that?" 

"I never went up there," she murmured. "Not fond of attics." She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to fight off the memory of the last time she'd been in one, in Colorado, tried not to gag at the memory of the stench. "It, um, must have been left there by the people who owned this place before me. They left most of the furniture when they moved out, too." 

"There's all sorts of crap up here..." He climbed the rest of the way up the ladder. "We should probably clean all this out," he continued, surveying the dusty space. "You coming up?" 

"No, I think I'll stay down here," she replied. "Anything interesting?" 

"A couple of boxes and an old trunk. The rest is just junk... need an artificial Christmas tree?" 

"No, that's quite all right." 

"Well, I'll bring these boxes down. The kids can haul the rest of it out when they come up next week." He telekinetically lowered the boxes and climbed back down the ladder. 

---- 

"This is a little bit creepy," Domino commented, opening one of the boxes. "I mean, it's all someone else's stuff..." 

"I doubt they wanted it if they left it up in the attic like that. Anything interesting in your box?" 

"Um... old curtains..." She pulled out a length of yellowed lace and wrinkled her nose. "I don't think those need to go back up. Some old candles... and this camera, which has probably seen better decades. You?" 

"This," he pulled out an old wide brimmed straw hat and stuck it on her head. "Looks good."   
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Well, it'd keep you from burning your nose." 

"Gee, thanks." She pulled the hat off and tossed it on the floor. "What else?" 

He tossed an old stuffed bear at her. "I think he's seen better days." 

She looked down at the ragged brown toy, missing one eye and loosing stuffing at the seams.   
"Well, someone was obviously fond of the poor guy." She brushed dust from the threadbare cloth. 

---- 

"Nate, just *pick* one." 

"There has got to be a cart here with four decent wheels." 

"Trust me, there isn't. There are little grocery store elves that go around screwing with one wheel on every cart in the place." He looked at her for a moment, as if not entirely sure she was kidding. "Oh, for the love of God, just pick a fucking cart." 

"You don't have to yell at me," he muttered, pulling one of the shopping carts free. "And there are kids around you know." 

"Sorry," she sighed. "Can we just get what we need and get out of here? I hate shopping, and it's crowded as hell in here. What's up first?" 

He eyed the signs that hung above each isle. "Um, cans, I guess." He pushed the cart forward determinedly, the left front wheel careening wildly around in circles. 

"Okay," Domino commented, eyeing the shelves. "I'll get the canned fruit, you get the vegetables. And Nate?" 

"Hm?" 

"*Black* olives. Not the green ones with the damned pimentos. I don't care *how* much they remind you of eyeballs." 

---- 

"You're not getting that." 

"Why not!?" 

"Count Chocula, Nate?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "The last thing you need first thing in the morning is a sugar rush, you old goat." 

"Hey!" He scowled at her. "And what are *you* buying, then?" 

"Um, never you mind." She deftly hid the box behind her back. 

"Oh no. I want to see this." He grabbed the box from her, took one look at it, and resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "*Lucky Charms*??" 

"Oh, shut up." 

"No, that's cute, really. Lucky Charms." 

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the box from him, tossing it in the half-filled cart. "Fine. Get your sugar laced breakfast food." 

"Dom..." 

"I'm not going to fight. Let's just keep going, all right?" 

---- 

"Did you remember to grab the coffee?" 

"Two cans." 

"Right." She surveyed the shelves in front of her. "Oh, c'mon... they've *got* to have it here someplace. Ah ha!" She reached up and snagged a jar from the shelf. "Here we go." 

"Nutella?" He read from the label. "What *is* that stuff?" 

"Bliss," she commented, then continued at his still baffled look. "Spreadable chocolate." 

"If it makes you happy..." 

"It does," she replied curtly. "Besides, I let you get your damned cream of mushroom soup, didn't I? Let me have my chocolate." 

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you from it." 

"And what is *that* supposed to mean, exactly?" 

"Nothing," he replied. "Come on. We still need to get something for dinner tonight." 

---- 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"I am *perfectly* capable of boiling water on my own, thanks." 

"Didn't say you couldn't. Just offering." 

"You can throw in the garlic bread in, if you want," she replied, turning away from the counter to glance at him. "Just follow the instructions on the package." She dumped the jar of tomato sauce she was holding into a pot on the stove. "And preheat the oven, or it'll just get soggy. I'm going to go dig the dishes out of the box in the jeep. Don't let the water boil over." 

She left the kitchen, the screen door creaking as she walked out into the spring night. There were crickets chirping, and she took in the scenery for a moment, letting it all wash over her. It was so calm, a serenity she couldn't hope to match. Inwardly, she felt like a whirlwind, being torn apart and rearranged in ways she couldn't comprehend. Part of her was content here, and happy with Nate, while the other part seemed to be choking to death in her own blood. She couldn't make heads or tails of it, except for the grim speculation that maybe she was simply losing her mind. It happened, on occasion, to people in her line of work. People who simply couldn't take the guilt of what they did any longer. Except that she never *had* felt profoundly guilty about it all. She had a conscience, yes, but the cold truth of it was that the majority of the people had deserved exactly what they'd gotten.   
So what was it then? She knew it was partially tied to events that she couldn't even recall without wanting to be ill. But whenever she tried to sort through it... everything was so confused, disjointed. She walked over to the jeep, and leaning over the side, began digging through the boxes in the back. When she'd gathered the necessary utensils, she walked back toward the house. She was going to enjoy herself tonight, she decided firmly. 

"What are you grinning at?" She asked as she set the dishes down on the table. "And do I want to know?" 

"Hrm?" He gave her his best innocent look, and failed pitifully as he tried to keep the straight face. "There was a really good view from the window, that's all." 

"You're a dirty old man," she replied, throwing a dishrag at him. "Remind me why I put up with you again?" 

"I'm an excellent bed warmer?" 

"Lucky for you," she smirked and turned her attention back to dinner. 

---- 

"What *are* you doing in there?" She called out as clattering issued from the living room. 

"Getting a fire started," Cable replied, appearing in the doorway. "It's a little bit chilly and I thought we could eat in the living room..." 

"There's no *furniture* in the living room..." 

"Well, I know, but I got some blankets and... hell. I'm really bad at this shit Dom. Cut me some slack." 

"All right, but only because you're cute when you're being pathetic," she grinned. "I'm almost ready here... garlic bread isn't quite done. Grab the wine out of the fridge? I'll bring the plates in in a sec." 

"Okay." He got the bottle from the fridge, two glasses from the counter, and wandered back into the living room. Meanwhile, Domino pulled the garlic bread from the oven and set it on the counter, then served up the spaghetti onto two plates and sliced the garlic bread. "Well, this is cozy," she commented, carrying the two plates into the room and surveying Nathan's handiwork. Several blankets and a few pillows had been spread out on the wood floor and a fire glowed warmly in the fireplace. "You're right. Better than eating in the kitchen." She handed him his plate and took a seat across from him cross-legged on the floor. "Any special occasion?" 

"First night in a new house?" He offered. "Even if we're not officially moved in yet?" 

"That works," she replied, twirling some pasta on her fork. "Good a reason as any, I suppose." They ate in silence for awhile before she spoke again. "This is almost eerie. We've got the entire place to ourselves." 

"No kids," he agreed. 

Her mouth twitched up in a slight smile. "Stupid as it sounds, I'm almost going to miss our little demolition squad..." She laughed. "Will you listen to us... when the hell did we get so damned old?" 

"And here I thought it was just yesterday," he murmured, "that I'd run into a certain hotheaded teenager who was too big for her britches." 

"Don't *remind* me," she rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder you didn't kill me out of sheer annoyance." 

"You put up with your fair share from me," he replied, setting his plate aside. "All and all, not a bad deal." 

"Yeah, funny how that worked out," she said wistfully. "Never thought we'd be sitting here like this all these years later. After everything we've both been through..." She turned to face the fire, letting the warmth play over her face as she closed her eyes and pushed away the past that loomed large over the little room. "It's a wonder we ever got this far." 

"We're fighters, Dom. Survivors. We're both to stubborn to lay down quietly and let it all go." There were things he wanted to ask her, but kept to himself because he knew it would pain her. Was she here with him now simply because she thought he needed her? Stupid things he knew he had no reason to question but did anyway. There were days when he was sure he saw accusation in her eyes, there along side that look that reminded him of a caged animal. She saw walls closing in around her.   
There were days he thought of telling her to go, that he'd been wrong to ever ask her to come back into his life. He'd had no right... but there were also times when he could almost taste her fear of being alone, it was that palpable. Not that she'd ever admit it. Just as he would never admit that thoughts of her, regrets over things he had and hadn't done, were what had gotten him through the first weeks after Apocalypse's downfall, when broken, battered, and tired to his very soul, it would have been so much easier to close his eyes and let it all go. She'd never know because he didn't want her to feel she had to stay for his sake. 

"Nate? You okay?" He looked up into Domino's worried face. 

"Hrm? Fine..." he trailed off. There seemed to be a barricade between what he was feeling and the words he needed to say it. 

"You were mumbling something in Askani," she said, not convinced. "What was it?" 

"Second chances," he replied. They'd both lost so much in their lives, and yet, somehow, fate had seen fit to throw them together. "Let me take care of these dishes," he continued, shaking off the reflective mood that seemed to cling to him. 

"Second chances," she said when he returned, turning her half filled glass in her hands. "Meaning what, exactly?" 

He stared off into the fire, the dim sounds of battle rising at the back of his mind. "This. Everything, maybe." He frowned and refilled his own glass. "Funny, I spent so much of my life *not living.* Just mindlessly chasing Apocalypse. I'd lost so much I didn't stop to see what I'd been given in return, maybe I didn't *want* to see it. Seeing would have meant facing up to it, feeling again, admitting that my life was more than just the means to an end." He swallowed the contents of his glass and reached for the bottle. "I wasn't the tin soldier they wanted me to be," he said acidly, flashing a grimace of a smile. "But I let myself be blinded and let everyone around me casualties of the cause. Especially you." 

She said nothing for a long moment, looking at him with eyes that were obsidian black in the back light from the fire. "Not your fault," she said finally. "Do you really think, even for a second, that I ever believed you were hurting me intentionally?" She shifted closer to him. ""You think I'm not guilty of the same shit, Nathan? Every time you held out a hand to help me, I slapped it away. How could I blame you for anything when you were willing to take that kind of abuse?"   
She reached out and took the glass from his hand, setting it aside on the floor. "The more I think about what I did, the more I realize it was because I was scared to death. The thought of caring about you, of having you care- it scared me shitless. I was just a stupid kid and you were intimidating as hell and I figured it was cocky of me to think I could crack that exterior of yours. Then there was Milo, and that was a safe sort of love, warm, felt nice, but it wasn't intense and I'm not sure it ever could have survived..." she trailed off sadly. "Stupid, but sometimes I feel guilty for having loved him. Blame myself for what happened even though I know it had nothing to do with me. Did you ever-" She stopped and looked up at him, wine and heat from the fire flushing her face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask." 

"Blame myself?" he asked, ignoring the out she'd given him. They'd never get through these things by avoiding them. "Every day. Every second. Sometimes it was all I could see. Took a long time to work past that. Sometimes I still find myself thinking it. And then I think 'What is, is." He paused, brow creased in thought. "No matter what you think of it, sometimes that's a very true phrase. There are times when you just have to let go if you ever want to heal." 

"I think we've talked enough for the evening," she said quietly, unnerved at his candor. 

"We both know it doesn't get better simply by avoiding it," he said, giving her a pointed look. 

"And sometimes it's not worth the pain, Nathan. It's hardly 'helping' if you end up ripping yourself apart in the process." She said angrily, grabbing her glass from the floor and getting to her feet. 

"Pretending to feel nothing at all is that much better?" He demanded. "I may have spent the better part of my life wallowing in my own guilt, anger, and self pity, but you've spent yours trying to be numb. At least I didn't run away." 

The glass hit the floor and shattered, glass shards scattering across the wood. "You're right," she snapped, bending over to collect the broken glass. "I ran. Can you blame me? Every time I let myself feel anything, I only wound up with pain. Damnit!" She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and clutched at the blood welling up in her palm with her other hand. "Fuck." 

"What did you do?" He sighed, then saw the droplets of blood spattering down on the floorboards. "Let me take a look." He got up and retrieved a dishtowel form the kitchen, then pressed it against her wounded right hand. "You should be more careful." 

"Thanks for the advice," she said sarcastically as he inspected the cut. 

"Well, it's not deep, anyway." He dug around in the boxes on the floor until he found the first aid kit. 

"I can take care of it." 

"One handed? I doubt it." He set to work bandaging the cut. "You should probably find some aspirin, that's going to smart some. I'll clean up the glass." 

"I ruined your romantic evening," she said when he came back, towel full of glass and stained with blood. 

"Accident. Happens to everyone. Even the lucky ones." 

"Not just that," she sighed, nursing her wounded hand. "I got short tempered with you. I didn't mean to. It's- well, sometimes the truth hurts." 

"Sometimes," he agreed. "How's the hand?" 

"Stings, I'll live." 

"We always do," he murmured. "Come on. There's still a nice fire going." 

----   
His fingers traced lightly over her skin as they lay stretched out before the fire, basking in the warmth that drove off the night's chill. Weren't talking, they'd exhausted all the words they had, dried up like deserts. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt jittery, uneasy, as if he'd just completed a mission that had gone horribly awry and was waiting for the consequences to hit. They couldn't live like this, he knew. Not forever. It had to end sometime, the only question was, would they survive the impact? 

She shifted against him, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while her hands traced along his skin slowly, deftly, like trails of fire as she worked magic that was well worn and familiar. Searching, hungry, looking for something she'd lost. The bandage on her right hand tickled slightly, raising goosebumps in its wake.   
His hands slid under her loose shirt, running the length of her back, feeling each vertebra in turn as it jutted sharp beneath her skin, a silent reminder of her damage. He wanted to forget it, let the worry dissolve away as he held her in his arms. Her very body reminded him, demanded his attention with its points and hollows, the prominent arches of her ribcage. She was kissing him hard, with that same hunger and desperateness with which she sought to lose herself, hands moving expertly as she removed his shirt and jeans, and he did likewise, leaving them without restraints on a bed of blankets. 

---- 

He sat up with a groan, deciding he really *was* getting too old to camp out on the floor like this.   
The fire they'd started had died down to only embers, and the spot on the blanket next to him was conspicuously empty. "Dom?" 

She was leaning against the window, moonlight filtering through from behind her casting her in silhouette. Outside, frost sparkled on the grass. "Didn't mean to wake you up," she said quietly. 

"I think it was the floor, actually. What are you looking at?" 

"Hmm? Nothing," she turned away from the window, the light flashing off the pendant around her neck. "Just thinking," she replied. 

"About?" 

She shrugged. "Nothing... everything. It wasn't supposed to be like this." 

"It?" 

"Us." She walked back and sat down across from him, facing away from the dying fire. "We weren't..." She closed her eyes and ran a hand back through her dark hair. "It's new but not new. Different convictions, but the same old damage. I feel as if I've let you down." 

"This isn't something you have any control over. Don't ever think it's your fault." 

"I feel so helpless," she said softly, staring down at her hands folded in her lap. "There's always something, isn't there? Whenever we get close to our dreams... something gets in the way. And it's been so long... I'm not even sure what those dreams even *are* anymore." 

In the moonlight she seemed almost an apparition, as if he blinked, he'd find her gone, find that it had all been a dream, that he was still laying in bed in the house with the hole in the wall, that Apocalypse wasn't dead... He reached out and took her hand, just to assure himself that she was really there. "I'm sure we'll manage." 

"We always say that," she jerked her hand away. "But we're not, are we? Managing, I mean. It's falling down like a house of cards. I can see it..." She paused and glanced away from him. "Sometimes, in your eyes when you haven't noticed me watching. Something grim." She looked back and reached across the gap between them to touch the side of his face. "It's there now." 

Before he was consciously aware of it, he'd folded her into his arms, holding on tighter than was strictly necessary, if only to reassure her that he was there. And he held her, pretending not to notice the hot tears on his skin. He couldn't make things make sense, no matter how hard he tried. He was so used to her strength, that unwavering determination and defiant streak, he couldn't quite reconcile it with the woman he was holding now.   
He'd seen her traumatized. He'd seen her plunged into the deepest recesses of hell the imagination could conjure, and she'd bounced back with a smartass remark and a sort of twisted delight at the thought of getting revenge. He supposed logic would dictate one could only bounce so many times before you just shattered on impact instead. That's what he was seeing now... pieces, tangled and confused, mangled beyond recognition. And he hadn't clue one as to how to make it better. 

When she'd exhausted herself and fallen into a turbulent sleep, he gathered her into his arms and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. The bed was unmade, they'd neglected it during the day, but he made it comfortable with the blankets from the living room, warpping them both in a cocoon of comforters.   
She curled against him, not waking, but clinging to him with the tenacity of a small child, unwilling to let go. He was struck by the strangeness of the moment, by that feeling of 'rightness' again, though things couldn't be more wrong. 

---- 

She awoke wrapped in warmth, Nathan's arms around her waist as he slept on, oblivious to the brightening sky beyond the window.   
It was some sort of sick game, trying to hide from the darkness in his arms, wholly unsure of what she really felt. Unable to avoid the fact that she knew, absolutely *knew* that in the end she'd wake up with that familiar feeling of lost memories lingering just outside her reach or an utter revulsion at the things lurking in her own soul. Then the pain would start, an odd mix of mental confusion and a constriction of her heart, her jaw clenched so tightly as she lay with her head pillowed against his chest that it hurt, wishing she could close her eyes again.   
She lay there a long time, listening to the sound of his breathing, taking small consolation in his nearness. For all the chaos inside her own mind, his proximity always seemed to drive back some of the shadows, giving her a chance to catch a gasping breath before she was swallowed up again. She wanted to stretch that moment out forever. He was peaceful now, wrapped in that new comfort he'd found without a trace of the almost constant worry that had settled on him in the last few months. She hated that she'd done this to him. He was free of his own personal demon, and here she'd gone and entangled him in her various nightmares. Part of her knew she was being idealistic. Nathan was no where near free of the weights that had piled up on him over the years. He was still a very haunted man. The difference was, he no longer let those events overshadow the present. She, on the other hand, was not faring nearly as well. She had so many wounds, ones she'd ignored for too long, which proved still fresh and painful when inspected. She was beginning to own up to the fact that, whatever her problem, it was at least in part her own doing. She'd left herself so much fodder to fuel her nightmares. Running away had always been her solution before, but she'd hit the edge of a cliff, with nothing before her but an empty gulf. This time, there was nowhere for her to go but down.   
She just wished she knew how to fly.   
  
---- 

She was asleep when he woke a few hours later. Since it didn't seem likely she was going to get up any time soon, he decided to get to work cleaning up the house so they could unpack the boxes currently cluttering up the kitchen. He set to work scrubbing out the kitchen cupboards and putting away the groceries they'd bought the day before. When he was done with that, he stopped back in the bedroom. 

"Are you going to get up?" 

She opened her eyes a crack, looking over at him. "Don't think so," she murmured, then pulled the blankets closer around her and turned away. He lingered a moment longer before leaving the room. The house was silent as he wandered the rooms aimlessly, before heading outside instead.   
He wanted to help her, but he wasn't sure how he could. She still refused to tell him what had happened to her, and it all seemed suddenly hopeless. She wasn't gone yet, and for all her melancholy he knew she still wanted him around. She still had her moments, when he caught a glimpse of the woman he'd known for so many years. But it was overshadowed by her unshakable depression, as if she'd lost the will to even try and hide her unhappiness. And it hurt to watch.   
He though she wanted to tell him, but every time she tried, the screaming in her head got so loud...   
Her nightmares were worse. Not just the one she'd had at Christmas, the one she couldn't wake from and couldn't remember, but others they'd both thought long left behind. She didn't understand what was happening to her any more than he did.   


She finally emerged from the bedroom that evening, wandering barefoot into the kitchen. He'd held in the sigh he felt at the sight of her. Gaunt, tired looking, circles under her eyes and a weariness he could feel bleeding over the psilink like a dull ache.   
She was trying so hard to lose herself, or perhaps simply to, as she'd put it earlier, get him 'under her skin' again. To fill a void they both could feel. Somehow she was content with him and utterly miserable at the same time and there was no intermediate to bridge that gap.   


"I wish you'd see someone. About the dreams, at least. I know you don't want to... talk. I can understand." He met her amethyst with his own troubled blue ones. He wasn't sure he could find the words he needed to explain what he was feeling, except perhaps for owing up to the fear that griped him with icy fingers, the suppressed panic that he'd lose her too, like he'd lost everything else in his life. He held back, concerned she'd take it for the 'protectiveness' she hated so much instead of seeing how much she really mattered to him. 

"I know," she replied. "I can't live like this, and you shouldn't be expected to. But I'm..." 

"Scared?" He asked, reaching for her hand. "Me too. But we'll work it out, no matter what. We've faced worse." 

She nodded, expression tight. "Okay. I'll see someone. Maybe we can end this." 

He ran his thumb over the tops of her knuckles, slow, soothingly. "I can call Henry." 

"No. I couldn't- I don't want them around," she said. "MacTaggert?" 

He nodded. "I'll talk to Moira," he agreed. Her expression was still grim, and he squeezed her hand. "We'll get through this." 

Silence hung between them for a long moment before she pulled her hand away. "We should get dinner," she said, looking at the clock. "I know a place in town that makes burgers as big as my hand." 

---- 

"I figured we could just set up the communications suite in the spare bedroom, since we don't really have a use for it- Dom?" 

"Hrm?" She pulled her gaze away from the window of the little restaurant. "Sorry. Yeah. Seems like a good idea. We don't need a guest room anyway." She toyed with the straw to her soda for a moment. "So you and X-Force will get that installed while I'm gone?" 

"Should only take a day or two to retrofit all the equipment. Though we should talk over what we want to do about security." 

"I don't want to turn the place into Fort Knox," she replied. "Perimeter monitoring and some cameras on the house would probably be good enough. Maybe a few more watching the tree line, since that's a weak spot." 

"That would work. We can put that with the communications equipment. There should be enough room." She nodded, not replying, eyes looking someplace beyond him while she fidgeted with the remains of her meal. Cable sighed as he looked into her eyes. "Dom, talk. Please." 

"Nothing to talk about," she mumbled absently, picking at her cold fries with her fork. 

"Well, *think* of something. You're dying inside, Dom, and all I can do is watch. And it's killing me too." 

She bit her lip- one of the few nervous habits she had- and looked away from him. "I- I really don't know what to say, Nathan." 

"You could start with telling me what's on your mind. Something is upsetting you." 

She smiled weakly. "Not that easy though, is it? Not when I don't even know what's going on inside my own head." 

"You're strong, Dom. You've held it together longer than any of us. And you're going to get help..." 

"Yeah, help." She frowned. "Someone poking around in my head. Wonderful." 

He let out a long suffering sigh. "Look, you agreed to this, okay?" 

"Not much of a choice," she muttered under her breath. "Look. Yeah, I'm angry. It's not directed at you okay? This is my crap to deal with, and I *should* be dealing with it. But I'm not, and that pisses me off. I'm used to being the one in control here, Nate. And I don't know what the hell it is that's currently in charge of my brain, but it sure as hell isn't me." She ran a hand back through her hair. "I hate feeling so damned helpless." 

"Hey," he reached out and took hold of her hand. "You're not alone here, okay. And you've got to stop blaming yourself. Sometimes things just get to you. There's nothing *wrong* with that. Oath, no one expects you to be totally in control twenty four hours a day, every day. It's no wonder you're burned out, Dom." 

"Hypocrite," she said with a half smile. "How many times have I said the same thing to you? You never listened." 

"And I should have. So take the easy out for once and learn from my bull-headed mistakes. I don't like seeing you like this, Dom. There was a time when you could walk away from everything, seemingly without a scratch. If I'd known-" He took a deep breath. "I should have noticed. We're partners. Watching each other's backs is what we do, on the battle field or off. I fell down on the job and didn't see you weren't really coping as well as you let on-" 

"It wouldn't have changed a damned thing," she said, a note of resignation in her voice. "It's the only way I know, Nate. There's been so much-" A thousand jumbled memories flickered behind her eyes. "It was like trying to swim towards the horizon. Impossible to do, but if I stopped, it was going to drown me. " 

"You could have asked for help." 

"Me?" She laughed. "Come on, be serious. Half the time I hated your guts. The last thing I was going to do was ask you for a little emotional support. Besides," she said quietly, "There are some things you just didn't need to hear." 

He nodded, expression carefully neutral. He knew there was a very good reason she'd never uttered a word of what had happened to her during the year Tyler had held her prisoner. She was trying to protect him from unnecessary pain, even if it was at cost to herself. "You didn't have to-" 

"Protect you," she replied, finishing his thought. "Bullshit, Nate. You were already blaming yourself for so many things. I could make a list as long as my arm. You were guilting yourself to death for not realizing Vanessa had taken my place, though I admit I didn't cut you any slack. We both know now there wasn't any way you could have known. And you were blaming yourself for what Tyler had done, though the true guilt rested squarely on Stryfe's shoulders. The last thing you needed was to be privy to the hell I lived through. I'm not going to pretend it was pretty. I'm not going to pretend that I don't still have nightmares about it. But slapping you in the face with what your lunatic son had done to me was *never* an option. I cared too much to do that to you. "You always take your responsibilities so seriously, I suppose there isn't any way you *can't* take them seriously, but I never wanted you to feel like you owed me anything. I lost a year of my life. Hell, so did Vanessa, though I was too angry to accept that. But it wasn't in any way your fault. You've got no control over the way people will exploit those you're close to. It happens. The bad guys play dirty, Nate. *We* play dirty." 

"How is it," he asked, "That you always manage to make this about me? Though I'll admit, you're probably right." 

"I just- I'm not making excuses. Maybe I'm just trying to explain, okay? Because I don't want you to feel hurt that I never talked about some of this crap with you. It's not that I didn't trust you. I couldn't, in good conscience, throw all that onto your shoulders." 

"Do I really come across as needing that much sheltering, Dom? That it was better to risk doing this to yourself, just to keep *me* from worrying about it?" 

"Hey, you try loving someone with the world's worst martyr complex some day, 'kay?" She smiled wryly. "It was the only thing I could control. I couldn't stop all the chaos in your life, but I could at least keep from adding to it." She started gathering up the remains of their meal. "We should head back. We've still got unpacking to do." 

---- 

The empty spot in the bed woke him mid way through the morning. Yawning, he wandered into the sun brightened kitchen. There was a note on the counter that read 'Went for a run, back later,' in Dom's familiar scrawl, and half a pot of coffee still on the burner. He poured himself a cup and relaxed at the table, facing the window which overlooked the back yard. After a few minutes of just watching the scenery, he walked over to the phone and dialed long distance. 

---- 

Almost a full two hours later, he heard the screen door bang shut and a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. "That was quite a run," he said as he walked into the room. Domino had a leg up on one of the kitchen chairs, stretching as she cooled down. 

"Needed to get the kinks out," she replied, switching legs. She was dresses in running shorts and one of his sweatshirts, which swallowed her thin form, the sleeves rolled and shoved haphazardly   
above her elbows. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't have any clothes of your own." 

"I just like yours better." She shucked off the shirt, dropping it to the floor and revealing the tank top beneath. "Besides, it was chilly this morning," she said, continuing with her routine. She seemed almost girlish, strands of hair that had worked loose from her ponytail stuck to her forehead. 

He couldn't help but watch her, eyes roving over muscles that rippled like steal cables beneath her pale skin, long lithe limbs that would be the envy of any dancer. Even underweight as he knew she was, her physique could rival that of woman ten years her junior. It seemed ages since he'd done this, just *looked* at her.   
  
"See something you like?" She smirked, the delight at having caught him staring dancing in her eyes. 

"Maybe," he couldn't repress his wolfish grin. His gaze softened slightly as he tried to remember the last time he'd told her how beautiful he found her. "Definitely," he amended, serious this time. He knew she was doubting many things of late, and he didn't want to add to the list. "Where are you going now?" 

"To shower. Think you can survive another fifteen minutes by yourself?" 

"I'll manage. Want me to fix lunch?" 

"Definitely. I'm starved," she said with a half-smile, as if she could feel the irony that such words had become a rarity. 

---- 

"I called Moira," He commented as he set down a plate and a glass of milk on the table before her. 

"Oh," she said, stiffening slightly, not looking up as she reached for her sandwich. "And?" 

"Thursday. And I'm sure you'll be relived to know Excalibur will be away on mission. No one will know you're there." 

She relaxed slightly, taking a bite of her food. "What did you tell her?" She asked when she'd finished. 

"Not a whole lot. Just that you hadn't been sleeping or feeling well." 

"That's it." 

He sighed. "I told her what I had to. About the dream- I didn't go into details, if you're asking. How much she knows is your discretion, but you can hardly expect her to be able to help if she doesn't know what's going on." 

"I understand," she said perfunctorily. 

"I don't want this to become a battle." 

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" She countered, voice flat, eyes looking someplace behind him. 

"I didn't say that." 

"You think I'm being difficult." 

"I don't. But I *do* think you need this." 

"That I need 'help.' Psychoanalysis or some shit." 

"You're twisting my words," he growled, not meaning to but frustration getting the better of him. 

"Am I?" 

"Yes. Look, you don't have to do this. I'm not going to *force* you." He ran a hand over his face and sighed. His eyes followed her as she put her plate and glass in the sink. "I'm not going to ask you to do something you're not comfortable with, and I don't think you need 'psychoanalysis' or anything. Besides, Moira is a doctor, not a councilor. Her interest is strictly medical." He frowned. "Unless *that's* what this is about. Unless you know something that you don't want her to find." 

"No," she shook her head. "Nothing like that," she sighed, the glare in her eyes fading. "Nathan, it's nothing like that. No one- did anything to me, if that's what you're implying." She shook her head again. "Nothing worse than normal," she said, and he heard her voice catch though she tried to hide it. 

He kept his eyes trained on the battered surface of the table top as he heard her run water in the sink, then return to her seat across from him. "You said something at Christmas that's been bothering me," he said finally. "You said that whatever it is that happened to you- I'm not going to force you to talk about it- was your fault. I have a hard time believing that, Dom." 

"I screwed up Nate. It's just how it is. And I paid the price for it." 

"Sometimes people blame themselves for things that happen to them even when they had no control over it. It's a coping mechanism, Dom, and not a terribly good one. You certainly didn't *ask* for anyone to hurt you. If you let yourself believe that, you're just letting them keep that hold on you." 

"You're right, Nathan. I never *asked* for this to happen. I never asked for *anything* to happen. But no one was exactly inquiring as to my wishes when I got tossed into this life I've been living, okay? And playing the helpless victim was never my game. C'mon. We've still got a lot of work to do before we head back to San Francisco tomorrow." 

---- 

A breeze blew in through the half open window, the room bathed in the soft silver glow of the moon. The sound of Nathan's breathing was soft, almost imperceptible. She reached out, fingers hovering just above his face, poised to brush back unruly hair that seemed always to fall in his eyes. The ache in her heart seemed to expand, overwhelming her. With a deep breath she pulled her hand a way and got up, dressing and walking out of the house without a sound. 

---- 

She was staring out at the ocean, hands gripping the wooden rail as she watched the water move in waves toward shore. She hadn't so much as turned at the sound of the jeep pulling up, simply stood there motionless as a statue, the moonlight streaking her long dark hair. Pain lanced through him at the sight of her, a warning, or perhaps a reminder- things were disjointed here. There was so much of her that was lost to confusion and fear, a tangled web he couldn't begin to unravel. All he'd been able to do was witness her suffering and whisper calming words as she fought against the things that were dragging her down, swiftly as an ocean undertow.   
The world seemed to stop. 

He took a shaky breath and took a few steps towards her. "You walked all this way?" 

"I-" Her words were almost drowned out by the sound of the surf. She turned to look at him, the moonlight catching the tears running down her face. She looked so broken and vulnerable to him suddenly. And all around her it seemed he could see the dim shadows of her dreams, broken and scattered like a ship tossed up on shore. "It just hurts so much." 

"I know." 

"I've been- jealous of you, I suppose." She said. "Of what you had with Aliya and Tyler... not of *them,* just that you had this whole life, and even though you had that ripped away from you, at least you can remember it. I never had anything like that. It's like... how do you deal with the losses in life when you don't know what they *are*?" 

"I don't know what to say," he sighed, reaching out to brush tears from her face. "About all I can do is give you a promise. I'm trying my hardest to give you what you deserve, Dom. After all the years you put up with me, it's the *least* I can do. And I can't promise that I can help you find what you've lost, but we can try, if you want. Either way, from now on, I want you to remember that no matter what, you have me. Okay?" 

"What if you're not?" She snapped, pulling away sharply. "What happens if someone makes a lucky shot, or the fucking virus kills you or- what then, Nathan?" She turned away, arms wrapped tightly around herself. "If I lost you, what would I have left?" 

"It won't come to that." 

"Can you promise me that, with one hundred percent certainty? Can you promise me that you won't be run down by a car or some shit like that?" 

"I-" 

"You can't, okay? It's been eating at me. I won't pretend it hasn't. I've seen you almost die more than once, Nate. Then... well, it was different I guess. There's so much to lose now. I never had-" Her voice cracked. "I've never had anything to lose before. And I never want to live my life the way I did then. At the time, I suppose I never thought about it much. I was just me. No strings attached. The ultimate blank slate. No past, no thought for the future. It was just the here and now. But lately..." She leaned on the railing again. "Late at night I find myself thinking things I've never thought about before. Whole futures, Nate. For *us.* And that's got me so scared." 

"I think I can sympathise," he said slowly. "It's not a luxury I ever really had either." He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. "It's three in the morning, Dom. We should go home." 

"I guess." 

"Look, I can't pretend to know what you're feeling right now. I'm as baffled as you are. But I'm not about to leave you like this. Even if I can't can't convince you... you're not alone here, okay? And I'm not going anywhere. Let me take you home? It's a long walk." 

She looked at him for a long moment. "No. I- I'll see you in the morning." 

He nodded. "Okay. Goodnight then, Dom." 

"Night." She turned away, fixing her gaze again on the distant horizon. 

End   



End file.
